


Bound to Leave a Mark

by Scrawlers



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 05:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17016660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: Hirutani always likes it when he leaves a scar, but sometimes the most significant ones happen by a pure stroke of impulse.





	Bound to Leave a Mark

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago, but in light of Tumblr being . . . Tumblr, I decided to archive everything here.
> 
> This takes place pre-canon, in their last year of middle school. They're about fourteen here.

In the early evening hours, when the rest of the crew had gone home and the late autumnal chill was beginning to seep through the broken windows, hole in the wall, and leaky roof, the warehouse was the best place to be.

It was a good place, Hirutani decided, as he took a slow drag on his cigarette and flipped another page in his magazine. He wasn’t too sure about it at first, given said broken window and massive hole in the wall, but if nothing else, those defects just gave it more character. It was rough—intimidating. It was the sort of place that cops were likely to ignore unless they got a specific call about it, and the sort of place that the average, nosy person wouldn’t likely hang around. It was out of the way, too, which meant that, aside from the sound of the occasional gust of wind against the metal roof and Jounouchi’s soft breathing, everything was nice and quiet.

As he flicked another page in his magazine, Hirutani looked over at Jounouchi. They were resting on the upper balcony of the warehouse, Hirutani seated back against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, and Jounouchi lying on his back beside him. Jounouchi had fallen asleep a little while ago; he’d tossed his school uniform jacket over the railing when they’d first climbed up to the balcony, and rather than look through the magazine with Hirutani, he’d chosen to sprawl on his back to relax, leaving sleep to claim him in less than ten. It was a wonder he’d managed it, Hirutani thought. With his jacket discarded, Jounouchi was protected from the chill by nothing but a short-sleeved shirt and his school pants, and the balcony was hard metal that soaked up the chill like a sponge thrown into a bathtub. Jounouchi had to be freezing, and yet he seemed hardly bothered. One arm was draped across his stomach while the other was cast out to his side, his fingers just brushing Hirutani’s leg. His chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, and his awful mess of blond hair was splayed out against the metal grating, his gross fringe falling across his eyes to brush against his nose.

How that nasty hair didn’t tickle him in his sleep and wake him up, Hirutani didn’t know. But then, he supposed, the steadily dropping temperature didn’t seem to bother Jounouchi either, so maybe Jounouchi was just a ridiculously deep sleeper.

Hirutani looked back to his magazine, but even as he turned the page and was greeted by yet another full frontal of a woman in a suggestive enough outfit and pose that it didn’t take much imagination to fill in the blanks behind the censor, he felt boredom turning his eyes away. The magazine was fine, and it was a new issue, even, but it just wasn’t  _doing_ anything for him, not today. He closed it and tossed it to the side, and it slid a little when it hit the metal balcony a good distance away. He’d go get it later. Even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like anyone he cared about finding it would ever venture out to this place, or link the magazine back to him even if they did.

Hirutani took another hit off his cigarette and looked back over at Jounouchi as he exhaled. The magazine wasn’t exactly quiet when it hit the balcony’s grating, but still, Jounouchi did not stir. For once, Jounouchi looked like he was entirely at ease. Every defense of his was down; he was completely and utterly  _vulnerable._ Jounouchi’s lips were parted slightly as he breathed, and if Hirutani looked closely enough, he thought he could see the little throb of Jounouchi’s pulse in his throat—a little flicker, like a muscle twitch, quick and persistent in Jounouchi’s skin.

Hirutani wondered what it would take to wake him. Would a loud sound do it? Maybe actually  _touching_ him? With his eyes fixed on Jounouchi’s face, Hirutani jerked his leg a little so that it bumped against Jounouchi’s hand. Nothing. Jounouchi didn’t so much as twitch, and Hirutani pressed his lips together to keep from laughing out loud. What an idiot. How could he possibly be so relaxed in a place like this? It was their warehouse, sure, and in that sense it was  _Jounouchi’s_ warehouse (though Hirutani’s first, of course), but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be on his guard. Didn’t he know that for the things they did, he had to be prepared for anything?

But then, Hirutani supposed, as he slowly ran his finger along the smooth skin of Jounouchi’s arm, it was fine if Jounouchi wanted to let his guard down when it was just the two of them. Better than fine, really. It was preferable— _necessary._ Jounouchi needed to stop being so closed off, so flippant. He was Hirutani’s second, before he was anything else, and it was long overdue for him to start acting like it. There was nothing about him that should be closed off, nothing about him that should be  _inaccessible_ where Hirutani was concerned. The thought alone was unacceptable.

The skin along the inside of Jounouchi’s arm was softer than expected. It occurred to him, in a vague sort of way, that he’d never really touched Jounouchi like this before. He’d smacked him, punched him, shoved him, dragged him . . . had thrown an arm around his shoulders, even, in friendlier times that called for gestures of camaraderie. But all those touches had ever done was convince Hirutani that Jounouchi was wiry, all sharp edges and bony corners, his revoltingly shaggy hair aside. As unusual as it was to see Jounouchi unguarded and vulnerable like this, it was similarly strange to feel Jounouchi’s skin so soft and smooth beneath Hirutani’s finger, to be able to relish in the fact that he was so open, so completely at Hirutani’s will and mercy.

Hirutani pulled his cigarette from his mouth with his other hand, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, and as he tapped the ash off the end so that it scattered across the metal grating, an idea occurred to him.

It was more of an experiment than anything else. It was just to see what would happen—to see if this was the thing that would rouse Jounouchi from sleep, to see if this would make that smooth skin blister, or maybe even bleed. It was curiosity, plain and simple. Pure, idle curiosity, and Hirutani was bored besides. Maybe, if Jounouchi hadn’t fallen asleep, this wouldn’t be happening.

Carefully, because he didn’t want to startle Jounouchi out of sleep prematurely, Hirutani shifted his leg so that it was pinning Jounouchi’s wrist against the metal grating. This caused Jounouchi to stir, and Hirutani stayed perfectly still as Jounouchi frowned in his sleep, shifting his position slightly so that his other arm slid off his stomach and onto the balcony floor, before he settled back into easy, deep sleep. Hirutani smiled. For once, Jounouchi was being compliant. Good.

Hirutani gently placed his free hand against Jounouchi’s upper arm, curling his fingers around it to hold it in place. He was slow enough—careful enough—that Jounouchi didn’t seem to notice this. He ran his tongue along his teeth as he considered the open area still available to him with Jounouchi’s arm pinned like this, and finally settled on dead center. There was plenty of unmarred, fresh space there. A perfect, blank canvas for his little experiment. His glanced over at Jounouchi’s sleeping face for just a moment before he looked back. He would have to be quick. Even if he could sleep through most things, Hirutani doubted Jounouchi would sleep through this.

But then, he figured, as he positioned his cigarette just above the exposed flesh of Jounouchi’s arm, that was what the experiment was for.

With the same speed and force that he’d use if his target was an ash tray instead, Hirutani ground his cigarette into Jounouchi’s soft, smooth skin.

It took only about a half second for him to get a reaction. A subconscious reflex against pain caused Jounouchi to try and jerk his arm away, but when Hirutani held him steady—and held the cigarette steady, too, the skin already puckering beneath the smoking end of the cigarette—his eyes flew open, roused from sleep at last. It took barely another half second for his eyes to land on Hirutani, and the confusion present within them was far overruled by panic, his face contorting in pain as he thrashed against Hirutani’s hold and tried to pull again, swearing a jumbled blue streak all the while. Hirutani held him firm until Jounouchi lashed out with his other fist, his knuckles slamming into Hirutani’s jaw with enough force to knock Hirutani back. Hirutani caught himself on his hands (losing his hold on his cigarette in the process), his fingers splayed against the grating of the balcony floor, and when the spots in front of his eyes caused by his throbbing jaw cleared enough, he looked over to see Jounouchi curled around his burned arm, breathing harshly through clenched teeth.

“What,” Jounouchi hissed, his voice tight, “the  _fuck_  were you— _why_ would you  _fucking_   _do_  something like—”

Hirutani sat up, and decided to ignore the pain his jaw for right now. It would go away—Jounouchi had done worse before, when he wasn’t thrashing like a scared dog—and it was important now, as it always was when it came to them, to not show Jounouchi that he’d actually done any damage.

So he shrugged. “I wanted to see what would happen,” he said, and it was true besides, so there was nothing wrong with giving that as the answer. Jounouchi looked up at him from beneath his wild fringe, his brown eyes bright with outrage and what looked like—Hirutani felt a swoop of exhilaration in his stomach—unshed tears.

“What the fuck did you think would happen?!” he snapped, but his voice cracked a little even as it echoed off the walls of their warehouse. “That’s a fucking  _cigarette_ , you asshole, it—”

“Did it hurt?” Hirutani cut in. Jounouchi could yell with the best of them, but he wasn’t interested in hearing it. Not now, when there were far more interesting thing to discuss.

Jounouchi looked at him as though he’d asked whether or not the sun was hot. “Of  _course_ it fucking—”

“Are you  _crying_?”

Jounouchi’s eyes widened—and Hirutani could see that, yes, the pain had been enough to make his eyes water, just as Hirutani’s question was enough to make Jounouchi look away in shame and humiliation as he squinted his eyes shut and rubbed at one of them with the heel of his palm. “No,” Jounouchi snapped, but he was lying and it took all of Hirutani’s willpower to keep from laughing. “Fuck you, I don’t  _cry_. Much less because of anything you could do, jackass.”

That was two insults in the span of five minutes, and ordinarily, Hirutani would feel the need to punish Jounouchi for it. But now he felt a strange sort of giddiness, and so he shrugged again as he grinned. “Whatever you say, Jounouchi.”

“Damn straight it’s whatever I say,” Jounouchi said, and he pushed himself to his feet.  _That_ choice of words was enough to make Hirutani frown—because no, it was actually whatever  _he_ said, and Jounouchi would do well to remember (for the five hundredth time) which one of them was in charge and therefore  _did_ get the final say. But before he could say anything about it, Jounouchi grabbed his uniform jacket and tugged it on, hissing in pain as the fabric rubbed against his brand new burn. He seemed to consider this for a second, his face scrunched in pain, before he tugged the jacket off again.

“Where are you going?” Hirutani asked, and he followed Jounouchi over to the stairs.

“To go take care of this, what do you think?” Jounouchi said. “Since you decided to  _burn_ me for  _no reason_ like a fucking—”

“Don’t act stupid,” Hirutani interrupted, and Jounouchi stomped on the next few stairs with a little more force than necessary. “I meant,  _where_ are you going to go take care of that? Your dad’s?”

“No. I don’t know. Honda’s, maybe. I don’t know, I don’t care, just somewhere away from here.”

_Honda’s._ It was funny, really, how easily Jounouchi could wrest any feelings of happiness Hirutani had right away from him. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his school jacket so that Jounouchi wouldn’t see his fists.

“My house is closer,” he said, as Jounouchi stomped toward the large, gaping hole in the warehouse wall. “We can fix it there.”

Jounouchi didn’t bother to look at him. “No.”

Hirutani clenched his fists more tightly. “Jounouchi—”

“I said _no_!” Jounouchi stopped suddenly and whirled to face him, and unlike Hirutani, he didn’t bother to try and hide the fact that his fists were clenched so tightly that his entire body was rigid. “I’m done for today, got it? I was done the second you decided my arm was good enough to be your ash tray, so back off. Leave me alone.”

It was enough justification to make Jounouchi lose a few teeth, all things considered, especially since the idea of him running to  _Honda’s_ made Hirutani want to dig his nails into Jounouchi’s throat. But there was something wild about the way he looked right now—something defensive, something  _scared_ —and that was enough to make Hirutani extend him one more simple mercy of letting him skate by without a punishment for his defiance. Just this once, because however Jounouchi was acting now—however this might have pushed him to run straight to Honda’s place—somehow the little experiment on the balcony still made the whole thing feel worth it.

“Fine,” Hirutani said, and he saw some of the tension leave Jounouchi’s shoulders. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jounouchi said, and he turned and started off again, his long strides only a pace or two away from running.

It was fine, Hirutani thought, as he turned and started in the opposite direction, toward his own house. Because even if he went to Honda’s now, even if Honda used this as a springboard for more inane, stupid reasons why Jounouchi should cut ties and leave the gang, in the end, the deal was already done. Honda could say what he wanted, but Hirutani had already marked Jounouchi as his own. And every time Jounouchi looked at that little round burn scar on his arm, he was sure to remember that.

 


End file.
